Subject Phoenix
by FrostedDusk
Summary: Albus Dumbledore thought about sending baby Harry to the Dursleys, but they might not have beat him into submission. Instead, our dear manipulative headmaster sent Harry Potter to the School, with strict notes not to inject him. But when do whitecoats ever listen? A Harry with an unbreakable spirit and animal DNA under his belt will take Hogwarts by storm.
1. Prologue

The School was a miserable place to look at from the outside, even without knowing the secrets that laid within.

Large, unending brick walls raced up with only a single barred window near the ground. Thick clutches of ivy and grass swarmed near the base, but the walls were completely clear. The roof with thick sheeted metal, perfectly squared.

A small plaque was above the only visible door, with four letters branded deep in iron.

 _ITEX._

It was large, unpleasing, hard to get rid of; there had never been anything that so closely matched a wart.

But it was exactly what Albus Dumbledore needed.

The white bearded old man stood directly in front, wearing blinding robes of bright blue and dark burnt orange. The thick swathes of cloth ruffled with a shiver as he stepped forward and drew a thin brown stick from his pocket.

With a single wave, a small burst of violet sparks shot toward the window. The bars on either side snapped to attention, and slammed shut over the tiny stretch of glass. Dumbledore let a small smile flicker across his face that was much different from his kindly one.

He waved his wand in a distinct swish and flick, and a tiny basket rose in front of him, made of lovingly sewn together willow branches.

It was beautiful, handmade, and artfully done. A thick blue blanket covered everything inside it. A small rumble came every few seconds.

Dumbledore kept the basket as far away from him as possible, keeping his wand stretched outward. He started walking forward, his boots clicking on the stone.

 _Click click. Click click. Click click._

He stopped directly in front of the iron door, and with a small flourish from years of showing off, canceled the spell.

The basket fell with a _crunch_ on dead leaves, and a startled cry echoed off the walls. An angry wail followed it, and it continued on and long without need for breath. Dumbledore let out his famous disappointed rumbling sigh. The cries fell silent, and a tiny fist appeared out of the basket, a thick wool blanket falling slightly off. It waved in the air, swaying like in a breeze.

Suddenly a strong wind whipped around the clearing, making Dumbledore's robes whip around him. The fist waved faster, and the winds picked up.

Dumbledore's eyes widened in surprise. "A Wind Elemental?" He whispered in awe and fear.

A happy gurgle sounded from the basket, and the wind receded. Dumbledore felt a raw emotion curl in his chest.

Not fear. Anger.

For this infant, this child, _it_ to be an Elemental, was impossible. For the elements could only be gained through awesome raw magic, and only mastered by one with tremendous passion and understanding.

But they could be stopped.

Dumbledore stood tall over the basket, his wand pointed directly toward the infant's forehead. Blazing green eyes looked curiously up at him, shining with the childish innocence he wanted, _needed_ to stop.

One could not die a mayter with a real spirit.

He waved his wand over and over again in the infinity symbol, his deep voice repeating the long forgotten chants in Celtic.

The strange words echoed off the walls, filled with the power of the Old and of new, the very air dripping with magic. At first, nothing happened. A pull in Dumbledore's core changed that. His wand started to glow with real, true magick.

It was an odd thing, real magick. Blessed by Lady Hecate herself, with the power of a thousand suns. But there was always ways to abuse that power.

A thin silver rope slowly snaked from his wand, waving and shimmering in the air.

The baby giggled and stretched his hands up, batting at the silver. His eyes were glowing with a brilliant curiosity.

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes. He chanted louder, with more force. The silver rope straightened and shot toward the infant with precision.

It swirled out of its clenching hand, snaking around its neck.

The baby cried out, but this time in pain. The silver tightened, drawing a tiny speck of blood. The child's cries were cut off, its face turning blue as it struggled to draw in breath.

Dumbledore let his chanting die off, slowly changing to silence.

The silver stopped glowing, settling around its neck. The infant sucked in a thin breath, and started wailing with fear and anger the second it had air.

But while it's tiny fists waved, its head thrashed and its body writhed, not a single breath of air emerged. But its wailing roused the very dead.

Dumbledore growled softly. His head darted up. His wand pointed at the strong iron door the idiot muggles thought would protect them.

" _Reducto_!" He cried out, letting his anger flow into the spell. Brilliant red sparks flared out, almost buzzing.

The resulting _boom_ shook the earth.

The screams stuttered off. He smiled.

There was a gaping hole in the side of the building, wide and dark. A single curse had done this, one taught to those in fifth year. Dumbledore's lip curled.

He jerked his wand up and then down, and a piece of parchment and quill popped its way into existence. He drew in a quick breath.

Conjuring was almost impossible, but he must do it.

Slowly and carefully, he used his hard earned perfect calligraphy and wrote a list of instructions to 'whomever finds this child'.

He all but threw it down on the basket, letting it land just out of the child's reach. The infant in question made a questioning noise, its nose scrunching up in confusion. It reached a hand out for the paper, and didn't reach. He looked up at Dumbledore with hopeful eyes, before looking back at the paper. Dumbledore snapped the quill in between his fingers, letting the discarded broken pieces fall into the grass. The child looked back to him at the noise, eyes still bright.

His face turned down into a sneer.

"Good night, _Harry Potter_."

And with a spin and deafening _crack_ , Albus Dumbledore was gone.

* * *

The world was silent when the first scientist came to start early on his newest project.

He quickly waited for the chain link fence gate to completely open, and quickly powered through, barely missing the closing _bang_. He gunned it down the dirt path, splattering mud from the last rain over the back.

The weather would not be stopping him today. Not with what had happened.

They had found an orphanage that had had to foreclose from loss of money, and, having pretending to be another helpful child's home, had gained _16 kids_ of varying ages.

16! This was almost impossible. Itex had been working off abandoned children, well-paid-for babies, and a small amount from actual kidnapping. _Never_ had they gotten over 5 in one fell swoop!

There were only around 15 scientists dedicated to actual injections and care of subjects, while most others tested and hunted restlessly for more subjects.

The car slowed and pulled behind the trees, the black blending in with the branches. He pulled it to a stop, carefully putting it close to the brush.

But now, every single scientist could have a brand new subject for testing and injections. And while they were already born and some were almost 17, they were new. Age was something they hadn't been able to test in true form; now they could.

Markus Brilen pulled the door shut of his blank black vehicle, and quickly snatched up his briefcase from the backseat. Inside were request papers for DNA. All of them stamped in approval, for him to use as he liked on his subject. He had gotten a nine year old subject, female.

His eyes flared with excitement. He had been charged with discovering anomalies with more than one DNA injected into subjects, within reason.

A human with both the claws of a wolf and the gills of a shark would be unstoppable, unbeatable by force or skill.

They could swim under the navy, and then claw holes in the hulls of the ships, before escaping...

This could be a new breakthrough in animalian human science!

He rounded the corner and stopped dead in his tracks.

A hole was blasted right where the front door had been. Torn strips of iron and bricks were spread all across the clearing, ripped right from the walls. A gaping hole.

Right into the most secret building in the known world.

He kept a firm grip on his briefcase as he walked closer to survey. At a deeper glance, it was much better than it could have been.

Only the door and a few feet on either side had been blasted. The second floor wasn't touched, and the explosive did not touch the lower floors for subjects. In fact, it had gotten the barest minimum of the building, only hitting the door.

His mind raced through all the possibilities. There were several hackers that had once known about Itex, but they had been dealt with. Had they missed one?

He started quickly toward the empty space, intent on checking for stolen items. His mind flared with worry at the thought of missing work, notes, DNA...

Only to almost trip over an object in his path.

As soon as he had recovered, he shot around and stared at the now giggling object.

A child. A tiny, baby child. With brilliant green eyes and curly black hair. Couldn't be much more than a year old.

Markus Brilen, in the moment, smiled.

Never seeing the white parchment until it was too late.


	2. Chapter 1

Markus Brilen stood tall, his hands at his side and his face relaxed. He turned on his heel and looked at the hulking mountain of a man standing in front of a door.

"Get me subject 45." He said forcefully, his voice hard as steel. "I want it conscious."

The wolfman nodded, his face twisting into a savage version of a smile. Dangerously sharp canines poked teasingly out from its lips. He strode the one last step to the metal door and reached out. He gripped a metal handle on the door with strong, clawed fingers and pulled. It opened smoothly, without nearly so much as a creak or wheeze. All the doors in Itex where in perfect condition.

He stomped past into the darkened room, his older shoes squeaking slightly. Seconds later, a pained cry echoed through the opening, before silence.

The wolfman emerged, one paw clenched around the upper arm of Markus' female subject, aged 9. It dragged out behind him, tripping and sliding over the floor. He grinned down at it, his face all angles and edges, no warmth whatsoever in his face.

"Time for your first injection." He cooed down at it. Its face was stark white and quivering, full blown fear dilating its pupils. He frowned at that, running through the knowledge in his head. He had studied humans extensively, and that meant the hormone adrenaline was running through it's body, and that would make it quicker, stronger, and smarter.

"Keep a tight grip." He commanded the wolfman, and turned sharply and walked off. He walked quickly, still wary of having an eternally armed monster at his defenseless back. But the wolfman wouldn't dare do anything. It couldn't.

No wolfman would dare.

They were their creators. They could just as easily be destroyed.

Endless white halls with blaring lights were sterile, clean and impossible to remember. Markus stared directly in front of himself, focusing on the directions he had taken hours to memorize. Thankfully, his office and containment room was close to the Injection Room. As close as he needed them to be.

He whirled around the final turn and found himself in front of the largest door in the building. Markus swiped his badge over the keypad to the right, and stepped back. It hissed open, revealing the heavily sealed room.

The room was simple for all the complex operations that happened within.

A long, stick straight metal table laid directly in the middle, with heavy leather straps covering almost the entire thing. It was hard and uncomfortable, many times the size of an average subject. Injections were tricky. You couldn't base anything off of previous measurements. Some had swelled, some had shrunk. Others had simply… melted. It was a waste of a subject.

Counters ran all over the walls, bleach white. Along one wall was a perfectly shining freezer, with one easily reachable handle. Nothing was labeled, but labels were not need for one who had grown up watching and using the Injection Room.

Directly next to the freezer was a wall of racks, filled to the brim with syringes, all of different lengths and thickness. A small bin laid next to it for discarded ones.

The light was less blinding, but still at the perfect brilliance to see everything. It worked less well for the wolfmen, as their overly sensitive eyes burned with the bright lights. But they would never complain.

Markus, having stepped aside to let the wolfman in, gestured impatiently toward the table. The wolfman dragged the subject, who was now stumbling behind it. Its heels dug firmly onto the smooth floor, finding impossible ground on the slick surface. Markus had to give a nod at its remarkable resistance.

The wolfman hoisted the whimpering subject up and dropped it harshly down on the table, eliciting a small cry. Markus watched with a distant fascination as the subject started to thrash desperately against the wolfman, succeeding in throwing his paws off one of its legs.

But in seconds, its head, arms, legs and chest were securely strapped down, and all the subject did now was watch Markus with a expression he had seen many times before, eyes wide and filled with…

He turned quickly away from it and strode toward the freezer. The unmarred silver surface glinted as he walked closer. Everything shone in this room. Markus opened it carefully, easing it for the last few inches. He stopped and stared at the glorious sight in front of him. It was the true masterpiece Itex had worked years to obtain.

Vials, endless rows of vials, were lined in snug containers. Clear liquid rocked slightly inside, the aftermath of opening the door. Tiny labels were neatly printed on every glass side. Markus let his eyes flick from row to row and smiled.

He held up the paper he had tightly clenched in his hand, the crisp white wrinkled in the corners. His eyes briefly scanned it again.

 _DNA injection pending request… Request approved… For use only in Subject 45 or Subject 47… DNA containment 15._

Quickly, Markus scanned the rows, eventually finding the row 11-20 and locating the vial 15. Pulling it out, he made sure to get a tight hold on the glass before turning it over and scanning the label.

 _DNA containment 15. Canis Lupus. Grey Wolf._

Markus grinned. The smile started slowly, spreading across his face like oil. It was dark, happy and horrible all at once, filled the emotions he had felt since he woke up.

He knew he was special. The one Injector chosen to attempt several DNA's, out of 15. That would have never happened if he did not have the eyes of his uppers. He would do anything he needed to continue their respect of him.

Anything.

He gripped the vial tighter and walked over to the wall of syringes. Grabbing the first his hands reached, he carefully inserted the vial into the open section. With a small amount of effort, he closed the lid and watched as the clear liquid drained into the needle.

Anything.

The liquid twisted, settling down before he shook it again. Tapping it lightly with his fingernail, he watched the air bubbles escape to the top.

Anything.

Turning back around, he made for the table. The hard, metal table an innocent human was strapped to.

Anything.

He stepped closer and tilted her head away from him, exposing her neck.

Anything.

The human became Subject 45. The table dimmed. The feeling he felt when he was awarded the permission filled him.

 _Anything._

* * *

The room was quiet when she felt herself stir. The darkness-that-wasn't-really-dark surrounded her, like a smothering blanket draped over her head. It was much worse than the warm morning light she had been used to for over eight years.

She slowly rose, her eyes opening the higher she got. She raised her high, preparing to stretch, when they slammed painfully into cold strips of metal.

She yelped, and withdrew her arms quickly back toward her chest. She peered forward and saw with frightening clarity the thin iron rods of her cage. Cage. Like she was a dog. An animal that had to be contained.

She snarled, the sound deep and rumbling, like a never ending thunder strike. It escaped quickly through her mouth, settling on the air. Her lips twitched back, showing the barest hint of her teeth.

She covered her mouth, her mind and eyes horrified. She hadn't even thought about it, just opened her mouth and _growled_.

What had her science teacher said? _Instinct_. She was acting on instinct.

A small voice made a sort of rumbling noise.

She looked over, past the cage. The cage next to her held a moving prisoner.

It was the little toddler, the one with stunning black hair that was wild and ruffled even at his age. He had blazing emerald green eyes that were filled with an inner light. He was rather adorable for a child.

He made the rumbling noise again, and she realized he was mimicking her. She hesitatingly let her instincts out, and opened her mouth.

A smaller growl, one not nearly as deep echoed strangely around the room.

The toddler squealed happily and made his own happy little rumble-purr. It was innocent, even though he was locked inside a cage in the worst place she had ever seen or heard of.

A place where children were locked in cages and forced to run for miles, never given the chance to slow down. Where they were dragged away by dogmen and stabbed.

She watched as he rocked up onto his feet and stumbled toward her. He reached a hand through the bars and waved it imploringly in her direction. He was so childish, like a baby.

But he was a baby.

She understood immediately and stretched her hand out to meet his. He grabbed her pinkie finger, shaking it like a toy.

She let out another happy growl and he returned it, his eyes glowing brighter.

Suddenly she became aware of a terrible itch in her neck. She reached up to grab it, her fingernails searching.

She found a spot near her ear that was ridiculously swollen, and started to scratch, digging her nails in.

Only to cry out in pain.

There was a burn, starting at her neck and slowly reaching all the way down to her toes. It was like a wolf, snarling and ripping through her flesh. She cried out once more before her vocal neck flamed up and she could talk no more.

The toddler looked confused, and he let a rumble. He watched with confusion as her hand went limp, sliding the the ground in between their cages. He watched as she twitched on the ground, her hands convulsively curled by her neck.

Her eyes were open, but only the whites showed; a horrible, dark silence reigned over the room.

Harry could only watch.

* * *

Markus Brilen sighed and dragged a hand over his face. Waving his hand dismissively at the wolfman, he watched through narrowed eyes at its retreat, heading off toward its resting place. But he was tired.

Very tired.

The injection had gone successfully, the subject's body accepting the new DNA. It had been almost instantly knocked out, after a few seconds of writhing. But he knew that was normal from all his watchfulness on the other subjects other Injectors did.

He had thrown it back in the cage, and quickly moved on.

But now Subject 47 was acting strangely. He didn't move inside his cage, didn't eat, just stared at Subject 45.

If he lost two subjects…

He had to settle to giving Subject 45 a basic medicine for exhaustion, one simple enough it shouldn't hurt the new DNA. It was a risk. But even when he gave it that, he could feel Subject 47's unnerving green eyes on his back.

But the color had returned to its skin and it looked healthier. Within days after the medicine, he was seeing signs of movement, until she suddenly shot up and looked wildly around. But in the readings of its blood, he had noticed an anomaly.

Its healing rate was through the roof. The healing blood was shooting through the body and veins like a rocket, much faster than should be possible. It was regenerating cells at a rate that should never have been sustainable. But there it was.

He had estimated that a broken arm could be healed overnight with it, and illness and sickness couldn't stand a chance! Within its blood, there might even be a true, unstoppable, unfailable cure for cancer.

So there went his plan for giving that Subject another injection. He didn't want to risk losing the vital power within its veins.

But now he had another thing to do.

He had to start planning out training sessions for both Subjects, claiming parts of the Gym and Arena for him to use. He called for pain drugs and medications, to see how fast Subject 45's faster cells force it from its body. He researched more on the grey wolf, circling the topic of family and packs. He would find every possible variation before it ever even happened. He would come out on top.

The other Injectors didn't like his methods. They injected directly after obtaining a subject, not waiting for any tests or teaching. Whatever could make their subject more impressive went in. Then they were locked in a cage, and left there indefinitely. Or at least until the Injector needed them to show off.

But Markus trained his subjects. If they could speak and read, they could understand directions, and they would be much easier to control. He let them talk to other subjects, although their time was often limited from tests.

Tests. They were one of his proudest skills.

Others tested to do just that, test. Test their speed, strength, agility, then throw them back in cages and leave them. Their weapons would be weak and pathetic, not able to do much more than throw a feeble punch or two. Barely able to survive, let alone win a battle with wolfman. They would lose every time.

But his Subjects had almost daily tests. Most Injectors thought tests were just showing off, or throwing fear inside Subjects to make them obey.

Markus didn't teach his subjects to be a black belt, that would be too dangerous. But instead, he trained what they would need to become a fighting machine, capable of throwing the last hit.

He trained their endurance the most. The Gym had three different mazes. One was the smallest, but it was also underwater. Many subjects were injected with aquatic DNA, to test the capability for humans to breathe underwater.

Another was the biggest. It was full of turns and dead ends, and was his favourite. Built with a shocking floor the Injectors could control from their observation room, it was the best to make subjects run over and over. After each run, a giant crane hand would rearrange the walls, never leaving the same path.

The last was the hardest both for the subjects and to keep. It was often called the Course. It was full obstacles, with spikes and bars subjects how to find out how to get around or over, quickly. For the biggest part was the wolfmen released into the maze shortly after the subject was allowed in. The only orders they received was not to kill. Never to kill. Subjects were far too precious for that. With the few they received every year, it was hard to keep them alive after injections, let alone fights.

But his subjects were put in a maze every three days. It altered, but it was most often the shocking maze, as that was easiest to do at any time.

He also trained their battle prowess. Many times he would stuff them in a blank room and release wolfmen in. Fight after fight, until they lost or fell unconscious. They would come back battered and bruised, but strong. And smarter. They would know how to win.

But then next day they were shaken awake, not minding their injuries, and shoved into a maze. For to build muscles, you had to break them first.

Markus let a slow grin spread across his face. If it came to a competition to see who was the best injector in the building, he would win.

The high-tech computer buzzed softly at his desk, alerting him to movement outside in his Storage room.

Markus strode the his blank wall and activated the one way ability to see into his Storage room. He'd had to petition to his uppers, only barely getting the grant to achieve it.

The two cages in the middle of the darker room were the thing his eyes flicked straight to. His prize subject, 45, sat in the middle, staring at Subject 47, its mouth open. With a frustrated sigh, he clicked audio.

A deep, rich growl spread through his room, like the roar of a waterfall. He almost stumbled back, his eyes opening wide.

Subject 45 closed its mouth and the noise cut off, but it rang inside his head. Then he saw it nod to the much younger Subject 47.

Subject 47, barely a toddler, nodded, its eyes growing bright. Then a growl spread throughout the room, not nearly as loud as Subject 45's had been, but just as deadly. And then Subject 47 opened its mouth, just a tiny bit.

The sound rebounded off the walls, much too similar to Subject 47's. He hurriedly pressed the volume down, and listened close.

It was low and deadly, like a warning.

Not a threat.

Not yet.

The sound was eerily close to a wolf's. He pressed record, and watched as the duo of subjects went through more noises, some ranging from what sounded like a forceful bark to an almost purr.

Subject 45 was _teaching_ Subject 47 how to _speak_.

He watched them, listening carefully and recording every time a new sound was taught. Subject 47 caught on quickly, learning and sounding those terrible, horrible noises like he was born as a wolf.

Eventually they stopped, and he was left watching a dark room with two subjects curled in balls in cages.

Well.

He was going to have to change his plans.

At first, he was going to give Subject 47 a small amount of Snow Leopard, a dangerous predator he would soon train Subject 47 to be. But now there was no doubt of what DNA Subject 47 would be receiving.

Sighing, he sat down by his desk and started writing up a request paper.

* * *

Subject 45 screamed, her voice high and desperate. The floor seemed to spark in time of her cries. It buzzed warningly.

She took off faster, her muscles burning. Her legs cried out in time with her, slapping bare against the smooth floor. The slippery surface made her feet slip and slid.

Her arms churned next to her, forcibly throwing herself forward again and again. She gasped, her air intake barely enough to keep her alive.

She lowered her head farther and ran.

The floor buzzed warningly again, and she gasped out in pain and frustration as she pushed her legs to go faster, faster, never stopping.

A turn appeared suddenly of her, twisting right. Her head was still down. She smacked into the wall, the pain like a blow to her ribs. Her arms windmilled. She slowed.

The floor buzzed, the warning call. She opened her mouth to cry out, but her legs moved and then she was running, running, _running_.

She turned around the turn, whipping so fast she stumbled and fell to the ground. But she threw herself up and ran, the burning, electric shock flaring up her legs only succeeding in pushing her farther.

Her legs burned. Her throat was dry. Her chest heaved.

She ran on.

The hiss and crackle of lightning pushed her farther and faster than she'd ever needed or wanted to go. The pain was terrifying.

Another turn. She was getting there. She had to be.

The flare of pain on her thighs raced through her nerves. She let out a blood-curdling howl, high and scared. It was inhuman, strange and perfect.

She darted around another turn and kept sprinting.

The glossy walls came to together to form a perfect box. A dead end. She kept running, slowly enough to turn around and push off the slippery wall, shooting her forward. There was no shock. She would have sighed in relief if she had the air.

The running was back, as deadly and electrifying as before. She bolted past a sharp turn and ran on. The heat settled more deeply into her lungs, like molten fire. She gasped in another breath.

Her legs burned as she twisted around another corner, and found herself facing a three way turn, each glossy wall sliding perfectly together into a smooth curve. Each side was perfectly symmetrical. She hesitated, before turning right.

But not quickly enough.

The buzzing filled her ears before a power shock of electricity swarmed up her legs, traveling from the tips of her fingers to the ends of her hair. Black spots raced in front of her eyes like wildfire.

She cried out, falling onto her knees. The lightning storm still raged, but in some half-dead state, she saw light down the corridor.

Standing on shaking, shocked legs, she began to shuffle forward, barely moving. But she made it to the gate and collapsed outside of the maze.

Her breaths came out in short, heaving gasps, and her chest burned. Spots danced in front of her eyes.

She looked up. A tall man stood above her, wearing a white coat and a stony expression.

"Not bad." He said. His voice was deep, but also smooth like honey, rich.

"Again."

* * *

Albus Dumbledore, Supreme Mugwump and Headmaster of Hogwarts, stared thoughtfully at one of his strange, spinning silver devices. It was peculiar, shaped like a top with two handles. He had noticed it spinning faster over the last day.

That meant that Harry was learning, growing smarter. With his wonderful army of monitoring devices, he could practically tell everything and everything about the boy. He turned his back on them and stared at the gorgeous golden perch that was currently home to his biggest achievement to this day.

Fawkes, a beautiful phoenix, stood there, his head tucked under his crimson wing. He looked up, as if sensing Dumbledore's attention. He crooned out a small song of joy before going back to sleep. He started to let out little, rumbling snores every few seconds, and Dumbledore chuckled softly.

"Don't worry, Fawkes." He said, smiling. "I'll keep your secret."

A sudden beeping noise rattled in his ear, and he sat up straighter and stared toward the door of his office. Fawkes stirred again, rising up and fluffing out his feathers.

Seconds later, the office door _clicked_ open. A tall, stern looking women with a tight bun and dark green robes strode in, her face cold.

Minerva McGonagall was displeased, to say in the least.

Harry Potter, the savior of the wizarding world, was gone. Missing. And the only man who knew anything was sitting there, twinkling happily at her as if nothing was wrong.

"Albus." She said, her voice as stiff as her face. "Where - exactly - is Harry Potter?"

His eyes, if that was possible, sparkled more. "I told you, Minerva, he was just fine."

"But where?" She almost hissed out, and she watched as his eyes dimmed and his face fell. She blanched a bit, but didn't back down.

"He is at a wonderful orphanage called S.C.H.O.O.L." Dumbledore said, his voice pitched a more sorrowful tone, as if he was disappointed with her distrust. "It stands for Safe Children's Home Out Of Love."

Minerva's face softened, and she sighed and turned back out of the office. Right before she left, she twisted her head around to look at him, her face still sad.

"Thank you for telling me, Albus. It means a lot."

And then she was gone, and Albus was left in his beautiful, empty office full of falsely sleeping portraits and an actually sleepy bird.

"You're welcome, Minerva."


	3. Chapter 2

Markus Brilen grinned as he gestured to the wolfman. The hulking beast nodded tightly, its fur rustling with the motion. He turned, its claws clicking on the hard floor. Its paw reached out and gripped the iron handle hard enough to make the metal groan. Markus made a low noise in the back of his throat.

The wolfman released his grip slightly, but still ripped open the door, letting it fly backwards. It stomped into the darkened room, its face impassive. Markus waited, his arms crossed loosely over his chest.

Seconds later, a slightly bemused Subject 47 was dragged out, the wolfman's paw wrapped around his arm. He was swaying slightly, a growing black spot on the side of his head. The wolfman was smiling slightly, and his open paw was still curled in a fist.

Markus shut the door, but quickly froze.

A long, drawl out howl echoed through the building. It was filled with anger and pain, low and fierce.

Subject 45 didn't like a missing pack.

Markus whipped back around and stared deeply at Subject 47. It had perked up, its head raised and swiveling. He was even weakly pulling against the wolfman, though it did nothing.

He nodded carefully to the wolfman, who started to tug Subject 47 along.

Markus strode quickly through the halls, his eyes fixed ahead as he counted the steps it took him. It was the only way to make the right turn.

 _Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty._

The turn came sharply upon him and he whisked around it, his eyes glowing. The ID patch hummed slightly with a soft light, the small square directly to the right of the door. He flicked his badge that hung around his neck across the panel, his eyes fixed forward.

The door hissed open, the steel door gliding into the wall. Soon the Injection room was open to him, and he stepped through, the sudden drop of temperature bringing goosebumps to his skin.

Markus drew his white coat closer around his body, the thin fabric doing little. It was much colder than he remembered, colder than it had ever been. He frowned, before shoving it to the corner of his mind. He would think about it later. He let his eyes travel over the room, not noting anything amiss.

Subject 47 yelped suddenly, and Markus spun around. The wolfman snarled, the sound low, and gripped its arm tighter. Small bruises seemed to sprout from Subjects 47's arm, but kept on pulling, his body desperate. The wolfman yanked harder on the escaping subject , its eyes dark. It suddenly stopped pulling, but didn't let go.

Subject 47 yelped and fell forward, all of its forward motion his enemy. The wolfman scooped it backwards with practiced ease. Subjects tried to escape all the time.

But Subject 47 wasn't trying to just get away. Its eyes - _those green green eyes_ \- were fixed directly down the passage they had come from.

Right toward Subject 45.

That just cemented his decision. If they were that close, they would work better as a true, real team. Unbeatable.

He savoured the word.

The wolfman yanked harshly and Subject 47, following Newton's law, shot into the room, pulling past the wolfman. It was pulled up onto the table, and the loud _crack_ of knee against metal echoed through the room. The thick straps were quickly laced around its ankles and wrists, and then the head and chest.

Markus smiled. He gestured toward the wolfman, and it stepped obediently back, pressing its furry back against the only blank wall.

Quickly Markus strode toward the syringes, plucking one off the high shelf with a shorter needle, bringing it down to his level carefully.

He carefully walked over to the freezer, cursing his decision to go to the syringes first. Thinking quickly, he set it down on one of the counters and moved unhindered to the freezer.

Pulling it open with a touch too fast speed, he froze as he waited for the slightly quaking vials to still. His eyes scanned and quickly found the row 11-20 and picked out the one directly to the right of the empty slot. He reached his hand in and twisted the container to see the words written on it.

 _DNA containment 16. Canis Lupus Arctos. Arctic Wolf. Reserved by Markus Brilen._

He grinned at the last sentence, pulling it out of the snug container. He had _known_ Subject 45 would make him well-known. The vial fit perfectly in his hand, but the surface was extremely cold. His fingers tightened around it.

He would not drop it.

He walked back a few steps and picked up the syringe, popping open the thin glass cylinder and sliding the vial in.

He slowly closed it, his eyes fixed on the needle. The thin metal lid _clicked_ shut.

With an unnatural, short pause, the clear liquid drained into the needle. He flicked it for the bubbles to escape, his mind racing.

It had never paused before.

He turned back around, his fingers gripping the syringe tighter than normal. His fingers flexed uncomfortably on the metal. Subject 47 had somehow managed to twist its head toward the closed exit, its green eyes pleading.

He reached out to tilt its neck away from his body, but paused. Markus looked toward the door, and saw through it for a second, saw the straining form of Subject 45, its hand reached through the bars, crying out for its pack.

Then Markus noticed the small, crooning noises Subject 47 made. They were small, almost impossible to hear, and they spoke of fear.

He felt _terrible_.

He was forever ruining this young human's life, just so he could have another good word put in with his uppers.

It would never be able to live again.

But he thought of his niece.

Her father deranged after his wife was lost in a Chemistry explosion, his daughter forced to stay by him, though she was only five.

He would protect his little Moon.

He jerked Subject's head away, ignoring the startled cry.

Then he raised the syringe and plunged the needle into its exposed neck.

His eyes shined with tears.

* * *

 _He ran._

 _His feet pounded on the floor, his lungs burned._

 _The smooth silver walls shot together, forming a dead end._

 _He screamed in frustration. Turning around, he started to run, run, run._

 _Howls echoed throughout the maze._

* * *

Subject 45 cried out in anger once more, the wolfish tones escaping easily from her throat. They were high, almost screaming, but they had the unnaturalness that hung on the air.

Her pack was missing.

She shredded the air fruitlessly, her inch long claws stirring air currents. She bared her sharpened teeth to the air.

He was young. Not a pup, but not old enough to be her age. She had been here too long to remember what age numbers there were, or what age she was, but she could judge.

She was older than her pack, but younger than the human who brought her to the runs, the fights, the _pain_.

She was middle? Was that the word?

The human had stolen her pack. The wolf-not-pack man had come in, _he_ had opened the cage and grabbed pack, but the human's smell was all over it, like a blanket.

Pack was gone.

She howled again, her teeth scraping against her tongue. She grimaced but continued, the sound unending.

Then suddenly the door opened and wolf-not-pack man and the human came in, and between them was pack.

She barked mightily, before the barest hint of her human brain came forward.

And words, the scratchiest and roughest, but human words nonetheless.

"Pack," she said, her voice deep and rumbling. "Give back pack."

The human looked surprised, his eyebrows flying up. He waved his hands at the not-pack wolf and then stood back, watching.

Not-pack wolf opened the cage and threw sleeping pack into it, before closing it quickly.

Pack was not moving, like he was dead. For a second, she was filled with all the anger, the fear, the horror in the world.

Then his chest moved weakly, and he began to draw in breaths.

She whined, before reaching out through the bars and holding her hand in the air. But pack didn't stir.

Suddenly, she frowned. Closing her eyes and pulling her hand back, she sniffed deeply, checking the air with her enhanced sense of smell.

There was not-pack wolf, but he just smelled bored. Then there was human, who was filled with curiosity and a deep, horrible sadness.

And then there was pack.

He smelled different.

He smelled like a wolf.

She darted her head towards him, and saw, after a few moments, the huge, inflamed spot on his neck.

The same that had been on hers.

She licked her lips, her tongue much rougher after contact with her fangs. The human waved his hands at not-pack wolf, who moved his head up and down and opened the door, before stepping out.

The human knelt, coming close to her eye level. He had dark grey eyes that seemed to glow and burn at the same time, like a star.

He opened his mouth and talked. "Subject 45."

She frowned at him. Was that his name?

"Subject 45." She said back to him, with a decent amount of effort. She bared her teeth humorously at his surprise.

He didn't think she was stupid, did he?

He frowned, and pointed at her. "Subject 45." He repeated.

She pointed at him with a dagger like nail. "Subject 45."

Pointing at herself, she said "Diane."

He looked surprised, before pointing at his own chest. "Markus." He stood up quickly, just as she began to growl, the sound reverberating around the room. He slid out the door, the white ends of his coat flapping behind his fleeing form.

She crooned at pack, her eyes fixed on his still form. His chest rose, but weakly.

She watched.

* * *

 _He ran harder, his feet crying out in time with his breaths. He forced in another gulp of air, his lungs burning._

 _A bar appeared in front of him. He ducked, his forehead skimmed the hard metal surface._

 _A panting sound not his own reached his ears. He cried out in frustration and pushed, pushed his legs harder._

 _He ran on._

* * *

Markus Brilen smiled triumphantly as he left his Storage room, the door sliding smoothly back into place behind him.

Subject 45 could talk. Maybe not perfectly, or in the best of grammar, but obviously the five years of captivity had not completely stolen its voice.

His eyes glowed with pride as he stalked over to his office, the door just yards from his Storage room. He slid his ID over the sensor, waiting for the low _beep_.

It came quickly, and he watched as the door hissed open, its smooth silver surface flickering.

He slipped through the still opening door and strode immediately toward the blank wall. It was devoid of charts or papers, like the rest of his walls were. While the computer as nice, paper versions were even better, in his opinion. He stopped by one side and reached for the thin silver button pad on the wall to the side. Pressing the button, he watched as the wall flared with a bright light before fading down to a clear view to his Storage room. A slow hum spread across the room.

The darkness that was still perfectly bright enough to see, but shadows creeped up the sterile white walls. He focused on the center, where his prize laid. He stared into the first cage.

Subject 45 was openly staring at Subject 47, its 'pack'. He would have to research more on that. Nothing could go wrong with his perfect subject. He turned his attention to his newly-injected subject, eyes searching.

Subject 47 was lying motionlessly in its cage, uncomfortably on its side with an arm trapped underneath its thin body. Too thin.

He frowned, before striding to the other side of his office, leaving the wall on. He walked quickly around his large desk and accidently knocked several papers onto the ground. He groaned slowly.

Bending down, he scooped them together and opened a drawer, before hurriedly tossing them inside.

He'd organize them later.

He slid easily into his cushioned chair, and pulled his keyboard closer.

The screen for Subject 47 was the first thing opened. He read the first sentence.

 _Subject 47. Age - Five years and three months. Injector - Markus Brilen._

He scrolled down to get to the bottom, when he saw the next section. _Injection_. He paused.

With a proud smile, he quickly typed _Injection successful_ into the blank space. He clicked _enter_ and watched as it added itself to the page.

He scrolled down and found the _Nutrition_ section. It was the normal food he provided, processed meat and calcium-induced milk to sustain their high exercise life here. That was another reason he was different. Other Injectors gave their subjects gruel with almost no protein, with nothing else. They were given the barest to survive, only once or twice a day. One, Jeb he thought, even gave his dog food.

He had a much better system.

He glanced back at Subject 47's thin form. After five years, that normal meal was much too little for him. He cursed himself for not noticing sooner. He pressed _edit_ and paused one more second before flicking his fingers and staring to type.

 _High protein, extra calories. Give meals three times a day with instructions to watch it eat._

He sent the newly revised to the Keeper of the wolfman who fed his subjects. Keepers were the scientists that, while they weren't high enough up on the Itex ladder to be an injector, they would train and keep the wolfmen, or Canine hybrids. Slowly, he opened the drawer still partially open. He groaned, but started to pull papers out and read the tops. He opened more drawers and started to slide papers into folders. After a while, he finished.

He watched his subjects for a while more.

They still didn't move.

* * *

 _The walls seemed to scream at him. His feet slammed painfully into the ground._

 _The scratch of claws was right behind him._

 _He cried out as a sharp pain ripped through his ankle. He toppled, falling painfully on his side. A hungry growl sounded above him._

 _A pained scream echoed through the building._

* * *

Jeb dropped his head, unable to stare at the broken mass of feathers and blood on the Injection table. It quivered slightly, before slumping completely down.

The needle that had once held the image of his victory was empty and clenched in a vice-like grip.

His snapped his neck up and stared at the dog monster in the room. Its furry snout and clawed hands were one of his greatest achievements.

His own son had been the apple of his eye, a perfect, strong example of a hybrid. So he grabbed his sister, with the vial of avian DNA. She would have been his ticket to the highest ticket in all of Itex.

But then it had gone wrong. The DNA wasn't accepted, thrown out of the body in a violent manner. The girl had died.

And with her, his rights as an Injector.

Too many of his subjects had died. They made for it a little bit, starting to grow wings or claws. They were the attention of all Itex.

Until they died.

And then Markus Brilen had come in. A new Injector, wet behind the ears, had gotten his first subject and created a Bull Shark Hybrid, one that had survived long enough to be sent on a mission. It had killed and destroyed an entire search mission of the navy before it was shot down, its body never found.

Of course he was higher up.

But then Brilen had gotten two more subjects, and managed to turn one into a Wolf hybrid with an accelerated healing rate, one that could eventually create the cure for almost any illness in the world.

It wasn't fair.

He growled out, deep in his throat. It was full of the anger and pain he felt.

He tightened his grip until the syringe groaned, the thin metal bending. He looked down at it in surprise, before pushing up to his full height and striding toward the dump bin for used needles.

And to Jeb's surprise, there was another needle in there. Switching his syringe to his left hand, he looked closer. He dropped to his knees and reached inside, closing his fingers along the thin glass of the syringe, and pulled it out.

 _DNA containment 16. Canis Lupus Arctos. Reserved by Markus Brilen._

Jeb's eyes darkened.

And then they began to glow with a bright, deranged light.


	4. Chapter 3

Subject 47 whimpered. He curled in closer into a ball, his nails digging into his thighs. He licked his cracked lips, and pain made his breath hiss through his mouth.

He kept breathing through his mouth. The tantalizing scent of the meat he got every time the wolf came in sat directly next to his back, but he couldn't even think about reaching over to pick it up. His chest burned.

The darkness was like a creature, writhing in the corners. The moving form of the pacing wolf stirred them like a stick.

The wolf let out a frustrated huff. Though he couldn't see it, Subject 47 could tell it was frowning, its beady eyes glaring into the small of his back. "Eat."

Its voice was rough, like the harsh floor of where he was now. The pain shot through his back and he curled up tighter.

He heard her snarl warningly. She was his Alpha. He was her Beta. She was the one to protect him, but he must obey. He struggled to turn himself toward her, his breath high and airy. He cried out only once.

She was there, with her teeth sharper than his. But his were growing bigger, and stronger every day. He winced as another bolt of pain shot through his mouth. They hurt.

Were they worth it?

She huffed at him as if she could sense what he was thinking. He whined back, his voice higher than hers. He was younger, even though he was male and she was female.

He slowly raised his head, the lightning shooting his body like daggers. He frowned, before lowering his back down. His head still raised, he tilted his neck to better glance at the wolfman outside the bars.

It was tall, but everything looked tall from the ground. It was covered in fur and had the look of Pack, but it was _wrong_ , _wrong wrong wrong._

He tucked his head back down and curled up tighter.

Beside him, his Alpha crooned, as if she could feel the turmoil racing through his veins. He heard a strange, wet sound. Then a voice that was not _wrongnotPack_ but not the man who stung him either.

"Get Subject 45." It was rough, scratchy, the words hard to understand. "Pack hurt."

He raised his head again, aware of the keening pain shooting up his spine, but watched in awe as Alpha spoke again, her mouth making human sounds. "Get now!"

The _wrongwrongPack_ left the room, his big paws shaking the floor. He opened the door for a second, and the sudden onslaught of light burned his eyes before it was dark again, and it was gone.

He whined to her, his head still raised slightly. She barked softly back, her voice gravelly with frustration.

He whined again. He didn't want to make his Alpha unhappy.

In the darkness, there was no sense of time, but it had not been long when the door opened again and the man who stung him was walking in, carrying something that glowed with a bright intensity. He growled at its brightness, his eyes smarting.

The man seemingly understood, and the glare went down, replaced with a soft light that was much easier to manage. He put his head back down, painfully aware of his Alpha standing full alert with the man here.

The man crouched by his cage, before softly clicking open the door and leaning inside. He reached out with something that the light glinted off of, but he couldn't see.

Then there was a sting in his neck and the world went dark.

Jeb slowly walked down the hallways, watching as the lights dimmed slightly to mock night. It was the perfect time.

The keypad appeared in front of him, and he hastily fumbled with his keycard, dropping it roughly on the sensor and snatching it back up. The door paused, before starting to slid open.

He jumped through the opening, scuffing his rumpled shirt on the still moving door. He paid it no mind.

Almost running to the fridge, he wrenched it open and stared blankly at the rattling vials. Stuffing his hands in there, he felt around all of the edges, twisting glass containers until he could see their little labelsAnd

And finally, tonight, he found what he had been looking for.

Printed neatly on the side of a vial was the words he had been praying to see.

 _Reserved for Markus Brilen._

 **Goodness, I'm so sorry, people! All this time, posting chapter after chapter, and then suddenly I'm gone? Not good.**

 **I really am sorry, but some things came up in my life and I had to go through them. This is my first story, and I'm still coming to terms with the fact I can't just write a single chapter and leave it.**

 **I'm also sorry the chapter's so short, but I'm moving out of backstory and into real action, so the chapters should lengthening soon.**

 **Also, anyone who correctly guesses what Harry's second DNA will be will get a sneak peek of the next chapter! May the odds be ever in your favour!**


	5. Chapter 4

The endless hallways seemed to burn themselves behind his eyes as Markus marched down the center path. His new coat swung behind him, the clear white blending in with the walls. Behind him, a furry wolfman dragged a stumbling subject with him.

The walk was quiet, only the thudding footfalls of the wolfman echoing softly off the wall. Markus normally, but his long legs ate up the space he was trying to conserve.

He had a bad feeling about today, even though it was to be his greatest achievement.

Suddenly, as he turned around a seamless corner, he paused. His eyes scanned the hallway, and a hand flicking behind his back had the wolfman becoming instantly aware.

There was an open door.

Its keypad was glowing the soft green of being open, and the room inside was dark. The wolfman shouldered past him, one arm still circling the subject's bicep. Its amber eyes seemed to glow with a fever.

Within a few seconds, he turned around and shook his head to Markus. There was no threat.

Markus walked forward, peering carefully into the room. So it wasn't for storage, so no subjects had escaped.

That was good.

The room was the blinding white of all rooms, but it was surprisingly bare. A cookie cutter desk, plain chair, computer. No added touches or anything at all. A small vial of clouded glass was on his desk, partially hidden behind the computer.

Markus removed himself from the room and started walking away. It wasn't his problem.

The Injection room appeared soon after that, and he swiped his keycard over the pad, waiting one second before striding into the important room. He smiled as he entered.

He turned and walked to the side, reopening the door again. The wolfman walked through, the subject stumbling behind him.

Subject 47 had changed greatly from when it had first arrived. From a young boy to subject he was proud of.

It had a very small amount of added DNA inside of it, the Arctic Wolf barely replacing 2% of his human DNA. It had cut away his humanity, so he was still 100%. But it was just not all human.

It had tiny claws, its fingernails elongated and sharpened. They were also sunk lower into its fingers, more like the actual things on real wolves. In an experiment with different temperatures, Markus had also noticed that its hair stood out on end like animals would do in cold areas. It was very interesting.

On the fact of its hair, it had been changing much slower than every other part, but it still changed. It wasn't pure white, like the wolves' fur, but more of a light gray. It seemed that it still had human DNA for its hair color. Markus hoped to squash the last of that out with the new injection.

Fangs populated its mouth, regular teeth destroyed by being sharpened and lengthened and rearranged. The subject's tongue had nearly been cut to pieces before it had started to learn how to move its jaw again.

It had been free blood to collect, at least.

Markus turned his back on the struggling subject and walked over to the fridge and opened it carefully. He had already memorized where his vial was.

He reached his hand in carefully, searching for one the farther back.

At least until the gun clicked by his head.

Markus froze, his hand stationary over the vials. His eyes darted to the left, trying to see who it was.

"Turn around." The voice was rough, scratchy, like one that hadn't been used in an eternity.

For a second Markus panicked over the idea that a subject had escaped and gotten a gun. It would kill him without a second thought.

Slowly he rotated, putting his hands in the universal sign of peace. His fingers were spread out, showing no trickery. His eyes were wide.

The silver glint of the gun was all he could see for a second, but then his eyes picked out the man holding it.

He wore the white coat of an Injector, though his was wrinkled, even torn at the edges. His skin was pale, his blue eyes red and bloodshot.

It was Jeb.

"Jeb," Markus said in what he hoped was a calming voice. "You don't have to do this. We can all calm down."

Jeb snorted. "I am calm. It's you that's going crazy!" Each of his words seemed to come out with a snarl. "First you create a working monster, then it actually works? Then you get two new subjects, one able to heal at insanely fast rates!"

Suddenly Jeb grinned darkly. "I do hope she can heal fast enough."

The man's attention snapped back to Markus. "And now you're trying to show me up again, this time by putting two DNA's into one human? How am _I_ the one that has to calm down?"

He snapped his fingers, his hand never quivering or shifting the gun out of Markus' face. The Injector was frozen.

What was he supposed to do?

Furry hands clenched tightly around his arms, each employed with tiny claws that dug into his skin. Markus yelped, turning his gaze away from Jeb for the first time.

The wolfmen on either side of him paid Markus no mind as they hauled him away from the fridge, dragging him in a way he had forced them to do to his subjects many times before. They turned him around to face Jeb again, this time with his back against the closed door.

Jeb carefully reached into the fridge, pulling out a vial with a familiar label on it. Jeb smiled sickeningly and read it out loud.

"Bull Shark. _Carcharhinus Leucas_. Reserved for Markus Brilen."

Jeb looked at him, madness dancing between his eyes. "I had to work very hard for this moment, you know." He said casually. "I thought you had found me out with the open door, but I was fine."

He balanced the vial on the tip of his finger, waving it around like a child with a pencil.

"Whoops!"

The precious glass container shattered against the ground.

Markus could not contain the lurch forward he made, though he was over 3 yards away. He would never had made it.

So he could only watch in horror as the DNA slid across the floor.

"Oh, how sad!" Jeb frowned, though his eyes still smiled. He reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a syringe. It was covered in dust, and seemed to have collected years worth of dirt. "But it's okay! I can help fix it!"

Jeb mockingly put a hand over his eyes, before reaching into the fridge and pulling out the first vial his fingers touched. He yanked it out, over compensating. He looked almost sad as it broke against the ground.

"How terrible!" He grabbed another one, this one coming out safely. He looked at its label, before grinning excitedly.

"Wonderful!" He smiled wider. "What DNA does it have?" He gestured offhandedly with the vial to the subject strapped to the table.

Markus stayed silent.

Jeb frowned, but it faded away to a darkening of his eyes. "Answer me!"

"A-arctic Wolf." Markus whispered. He was keenly aware of the gun that was still clenched in the maniac's hand.

"Then Snow Leopard would go perfect, wouldn't it?" Jeb said happily. He waited a second, before glaring at the terrified man.

"Y-yes." He murmured back.

Inside his head he panicked. Wolf and Leopard! What was the man _thinking_?

"Perfect then!" Jeb exclaimed, before popping open the hideous syringe in his hands. He noticed Markus' disgusted look.

"Oh, don't worry." He smiled darkly. "But this is the thing that killed my daughter, and I'm too tired to grab a different one. This is remarkably convenient."

He strode confidently to the subject strapped to the table, his fingers carefully holding the syringe no matter how harshly he had handled the vial alone.

Jeb stopped when he was next to the table, looking once more at Markus with true, true anger in his gaze.

Then he stuck the needle into the subject's arm.

It went in cleanly, and Jeb slammed his finger down on the button, watching as the DNA drained away into the arm.

He watched it, smiling softly when the subject opened his mouth in a silent scream and started twitching. Its gray hair was soaked in sweat with seconds.

"See what happens?" Jeb said quietly, his voice full of the first real emotions Markus had seen so far. His body was stiff, muscles tensing in his arms.

"When something you spent your life researching, applying for the job time after time, forced to take care of these half wolf monsters, and then finally get to do something, only to have it die before your eyes."

Markus, though he tried to avoid it, his eyes glanced over to the subject that was laid on the table. But then he seized up.

What had Jeb said?

" _I do hope she heals fast enough."_

"Jeb," Markus said, his voice deathly calm despite the gun still in the man's hands. Jeb looked almost surprised at his complete change. "What have you done to Subject 45?"

"Oh!" Jeb perked up, his face lighting up with fake cheer. "I sent someone to _help_ her. No one should be a monster." His voice dropped almost painfully low on the last word.

Unknown to both men, Subject 47 was having something a bit strange happen to him. The wolfmen noticed.

They said nothing.

There was a lot of Snow Leopard DNA in the syringe, with more from the leftover DNA from when Jeb used it first.

It had forced out a lot of human DNA, making more and more room for the incoming animalism.

And Harry's magic found an opportunity.

For Harry, every since he was young, his magic had been consciously aware of something invading in his forehead, something evil. It had, at first, strived to take over the body, but Harry's magic forced it out. Still, it stayed in the backgrounds, waiting.

So when that new animal DNA came in?

You can guess what was the first to go.

And when the Horcrux hidden within Harry's very DNA was picked, it didn't leave easily. It sunk its claws into the human and dragged itself back in.

But Harry's magic wouldn't allow it. So he simply cut off those parts as well and shoved the Horcrux out.

But now there were substantial gaps in Harry's humanity. Many, many pieces had been ripped out, some very vital parts. And the DNA in the syringe that came in wasn't enough.

So Harry's magic pulled at the wolf DNA still resting within his body. Harry has used the minimal amount possible, trying to keep his humanity, for he was still a young boy and wanted to stay that way.

But now was not the time.

So carefully, ever so carefully, using the newcomers Snow Leopard, Arctic Wolf and trace hints of another DNA in the vial, Osprey, Harry began to patch his DNA back together.

It would take many years, slowly fixing up holes and covering weaknesses.

But he would do it.

Both men in the room were blissfully unaware of this.

Markus pulled his arms out of the grips of the wolfmen, his rage filling him with strength. The wolfmen did not try to reclaim their hold. They hated Jeb. Over the years, he had worsened, but he was horrible to them, giving them tasks that would make most shudder.

And he hadn't ordered them to keep a hold on him, did he?

Markus shot Jeb a look of the most murderous intentions he could muster. His very eyes seemed to glow.

And then he took off like a shot, racing down the halls to reach his storage room.

The white tiles on the floor blurred together as he sprinted, his mind on one thing solely.

The door was already open.

He threw himself through the opening, his eyes adjusted to the darkness as he furiously scanned for any threats.

He found one.

A lone wolfman, stood unmoving in the center of the room. His head was down and his arms stiffly held at his sides. He did not so much as twitch when Markus came in.

But that didn't mean that he could miss the steady drip of scarlet from its exposed fangs.

He rushed faster to the cage.

His prized Subject 45 laid frozen in its cage, eyes wide open and colored in terror. Its skin was ice cold to the touch.

A bloody gash was ripped open along its throat.

Markus mouthed words silently, though his eyes scanned the corpse for more details. It had no extra wounds, no bruises. And he noticed that its neck had been snapped, a painless death. But he could also feel that the break had knitted itself, bringing the subject back to life.

Markus glanced at the wolfman.

It did not move.

The same wolfman was found with trace amounts of Theobroma Cacao within its blood, causing excruciating pain. A vial of the same substance and a syringe was found in Jeb's office.

But his subject was dead.

And would stay that way.

Markus fell to his knees and wept.

* * *

 **Woah, and here comes some action! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I churned this one out so fast, I've been creating this one in my head since the very beginning of this story idea. You guys deserve it for me waiting almost a month before updating again! I'll problem make another one in a few days, so be prepared.**

 **As I've said before, please read, review and favorite! If there's anything you'd like to see, tell me! I'll try to put it in!**

 **The next one should come in about a week or less, I'm still working on it.**

 **Night Out!**


	6. Chapter 5

The room was still dark, but it seemed less so to the small boy crouched in a large cage.

The room surrounding him was large, but it seemed much smaller in the suffocating dark. It was a perfect square, with other monster shaped shadows from empty cages on the perimeter of the room. A single light bulb hung from the roof, but it was currently off. It did not look like it had been on in years. The boy had his back to it.

Green eyes streaked with brown gleamed in the little light, glowing like embers. They did not move. They did not waver. They were frozen in their gaze.

Their path was directed at the thin lines in the wall. Small beams of light escaped from there, symbolizing the hall outside was in use. But that was not where he eyes were.

Instead, they looked at another cage lying next to his.

The cage was empty, but the thin layer of dust on all of the other cages was missing from it. It had been used recently, and strangely, was within reach of the small boy. Along the inside, its ground was covered in scratches, many seemingly to have been cut through the steel floor.

The boy's cage bars were covered in the same marks.

If someone were to walk in, they would hear soft, crooning noises that would raise the hair on the back of their neck.

It was soft, but dark; the faint underlying aspect of a growl was frightening.

From the boy's cage, a thin object spun around the bars. It was thin, almost impossible to see in the dark, but it was there. It swished across the floor, it's invisible path seemingly random.

But it was to be noticed that it never went toward the closed door to the room.

A shadow passed in front of the door, blocking out the light. The _click_ of the door lock sounded only seconds after, and a hulking wolfman stomped into the room. It unlocked the cage door, snatching the boy out and pulling him through the opening.

He was returned many hours later, half closed wounds still bleeding sluggishly. He made no sort of struggle, only adjusting his weak position to that he could look back at the cage.

On and on, only blinking occasionally, the boy stood guard over the empty cage.

* * *

The Supreme Mugwump sat in his office, long fingers overlapping as he placed them against his chin. The circular room was filled with a soft song from a bird that seemed to be made of flames, the sound bringing hope to all that heard it. Large windows were opened but enchanted, not letting neither breeze nor bugs in. They did look nice, though. Towering bookshelves framed each side of the windows, filled to the brim with books of every size and hue. Small tables lines every wall, covered in strange and unworldly silver trinkets and objects. The device his blue eyes were looking at beeped loudly, before instantly falling silent. He carefully adjusted his half-moon glasses before tapping the side of their metal frame.

In the blink of an eye, several objects in the room glowed a bright, burning gold. Many of the objects, several books, and most importantly, a golden shape appeared where his door was. It was a blurred outline of a tall woman, with flowing robes. He smiled as the shape reached out for a doorknob and twisted.

"Hello Minerva," the Headmaster said kindly, discreetly canceling the charm on his glasses. The golden outline disappeared.

The professor smiled back. "One day I will figure out how you do that, Albus." Her voice was kind, her expression teasing.

He leaned back, grabbing a small blue dish from a side table in his office. It was full of tiny yellow candies, each one perfectly round. He offered them to Minerva, his face the perfect grandfatherly expression. "Lemon drop?"

She shook her head, instead gathering up her black robes with a thin outline of gold around her and sitting at the plump armchair opposite his desk. Her graying hair came a little loose from its bun, a strand falling down to frame her face. She carefully tucked it back.

Albus grabbed two and popped them in his mouth, swallowing them quickly. He felt the effects of the Calming Draught slip down his throat, and felt his face relax even more so. "Your loss, Minerva."

The woman looked straight at him and spoke in a rather firm voice. "I need to ask for your help."

"Oh?" He looked up, his face interested. "Whatever for? You are quite the competent witch."

She shifted, almost guiltily. "But now I need help from the greatest wizard in all time." She looked almost pleadingly at him.

He laughed, his eyes crinkling. "I am not Merlin, my dear!" Although the reference he was the strongest wizard alive was plenty enough to stoke his ego.

She smiled back. "I know. But I'm afraid I want to know something for this upcoming year. Something rather important to me." He eyes darted to the side, showing complete nervousness.

He nodded at her, telling her to continue. He thought he had a pretty good idea of what she meant to ask him.

She took another breath and said it all very quickly. "I need to know whether Harry Potter will be in Gryffindor or not."

He looked down at her and tutted disapprovingly, his face radiating disappointment for her actions. "Minerva. You know I cannot answer that."

"But I need to know!" She pleaded, her face full of raw emotion. "The son of Lily and James Potter; I need to know if he will follow in their footsteps!" Her hand reached partially out across the desk as if she was begging.

Inwardly, Albus grinned. She thought he was powerful enough to tell exactly what house Harry Potter would be in, and what he would do. He _needed_ to latch onto that respect while not telling her anything.

"I can't tell you that, Minerva." He said, his voice sad. "That would change the future." There. Foreshadowing that he knew, but could not tell her; she would fall for it completely, just like every other time.

And indeed she did. Minerva deflated, like a Puffskein losing air. "I know, Albus." She said quietly. "I just wish you could tell me. It would be so _wonderful_."

She stood up, her face rather embarrassed. "I'll just go." Hurriedly, she turned to leave, but Albus had a boon to ask, one that she would always do , as she had had to do it many times before.

"Oh, and Minerva?" She turned, her robes swishing. "Do tell Professor Trelawney to come down, I need to meet with her about something important. I'm afraid I might have to keep asking you to fetch her. My poor old bones do not agree with her ladder, I'm sorry to say."

The witch nodded, a smile spreading across her face. She spared one last glance at him before opening his ornate door and slipping outside to go off and do something he paid no mind to. He had something bigger to prepare for.

It was now or never.

He had less than a year before the 'Chosen One' would come, and he had to be ready. There would be no catching him off guard.

So it was the time to pull out his personal oracle.

He stayed sat there, still popping more and more Lemon Drops into his mouth, the Calming Draughts working their way through his system. The tension fell from his shoulders, the small bags beneath his eyes disappearing. He had to be completely ready to ask the perfect questions.

Eventually, he tucked the blue dish of candies back onto the side table, snatching one last one. He looked around at the portraits and grinned.

That had been one of his greatest achievements.

Once the brightest minds of their years, the old Headmasters had been preserved in portraits to help the current Headmaster. But Albus had found a discreet charm that froze them, keeping them stiff and unmoving within their frames. No one could see what he did in here.

The quick beep from his silver device beat a small knock by only a few seconds. It came through the thick wood, and then the door opened, and a pair of giant glasses poked their way in.

Sybil Trelawney walked into the room, her face a mixture of curiosity and anxiety. He replaced the grin on his face with a grandfatherly smile, waving his hand, welcoming her in all of the way in.

She rearranged the shawl on her shoulder, his one a burnt orange and red. It almost beat Dumbledore's own vivid green and gold robes. Her glasses almost shimmered by the candlelight.

Albus slid his down and pried open a small drawer in the base of his desk. It was weakly warded to only let his hand in. Not strong enough to tip off the other professor's here, but good enough to let them avoid it.

Not that they went through his desk. He was the Headmaster.

From there he drew a red tin, one with curling edges and a light vine design. It was filled with small yellow candies, ones very different than the ones he ate.

"Lemon Drop?" He offered Sybil, holding the tin out. His eyes scanned hers for every emotion.

At first, she started to shake her head, but only a second after the complexions kicked in and she was taking several, stuffing them greedily into her mouth.

He had to wait only a moment before her large eyes glazed over, her face falling slack. Her hand came to land with a _thud_ on his desk.

Albus reached into the folds of his robes and pulled out a thin and knotted piece of wood that held his greatest power. He waved it in a slashing motion. Trelawney's glasses floated off her face, revealing glassy bright green eyes blank of emotion.

He stared directly in their depthes, his face concentrated. And then he spoke.

"Will Harry Potter be at the train station on September 1st?" He chose his words carefully, his voice slow.

Trelawney spoke, but her voice was cold, echoing in the room that should never echo. " _Harry Potter will not be there. The boy born to Lily and James Potter shall arrive instead._ "

Albus cursed. He had been hoping for good news. Instead, he received a cryptic message to decode. But he still had two questions left.

"Did the boy born to Lily and James Potter once go by the name of Harry Potter?" He asked after a moment's thought.

" _Yes._ "

He waited, but there was no more. Her thick and wordy answers seemed to have abandoned her. Well, it was good for him.

So Harry Potter would be coming, but not as Harry Potter. Maybe he called himself a nickname, or went by his middle name? Oracles would often interpret silly things like that as important.

What to say as his last question? He had expected the first to be different, so he had a whole new alleyway to play with.

"Could the boy born to Lily and James Potter still be molded to fit the plans I have set for him?"

The pause after his question was long enough to make Albus panic.

Finally, she answered. " _In order to play with fire, one first needs air to start the flame._ "

So. The fact that the whelpling had been a Wind Elemental was important for him to fit Albus' plans. Well, he could unlock pieces of it, small parts at a time.

He would not have the boy getting an idea of his power.

The professor stirred, her eyes regaining emotions and light. She swung her head from side to side. "W-what?" She asked, her voice and act confused. She started to stand up, her fingers reaching into her pocket for her wand. "Where am I?"

The Headmaster of Hogwarts, one of the most trusted men in the world, raised his wand and pointed it directly between the panicked eyes of his Divination Professor, uttering a single word.

" _Obliviate_."

* * *

 **Hello, my lovely readers! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

 **I'm really surprised at myself! Three chapters in under three days! I'm a MACHINE!**

 **And so Harry's DNA is twisted and mangled, but you will not know the full extent until later. But you get a closer glance at the way our favorite Headmaster is taking control.**

 **The idea for Oracle Trelawney comes from the Fanfiction Partially Kissed Hero. It's amazing! Please go read it! You may find me 'borrowing' some ideas from it, but they will not be the same.**

 **And, as always, read and review!**

 **Frost out!**


	7. Chapter 6

Markus Brilen would not count himself as a vengeful man.

He did not pick fights. He did not search others out to make them pay. He did not shove others down to make himself feel better.

But as he looked down at the body of Subject 47, he had never wanted revenge more in his life.

Jeb had taken a beautiful thing, one of art and wonder, and turned it into a monster with its very body fighting against itself.

Arctic Wolf. A powerful _canine_ predator.

Snow Leopard. An elegant _feline_ predator.

Jeb had to be insane. There was no other reason for this crazy thing he had done to Markus' subject. Putting a wolf in? Fine. But put in a bloody _cat_ , something which a wolf saw as a _prey_ , and the subject would rip itself apart, trying to hunt the cat but also trying to escape. It was enough to make his blood boil. Jeb was right about one thing, though. Watching something that you have worked your whole life toward be destroyed before your eyes would break your mind well before anything else would.

But it hadn't stopped Markus. Oh no, he was keeping this subject alive if it was the only one that would ever survive. He _would_ do it.

The first thing he had done was pick one of the DNAs. He had gone with Snow Leopard, for the only fact that there was more of it. Then he harnessed it, forcing the DNA into the parts of his subject's body that he wanted. He had tried to squash out the Arctic Wolf, but the DNA had had years to sink into the body. So the best he could do was to smother the parts around the wolf in the Snow Leopard DNA. He had even found traces of Osprey DNA and had applied that too. It might never be the perfect hybrid that he had wanted, but whatever this turned out to be, it would be _the_ apex predator.

But it had taken years. The subject's body seemed to reject most of what he was doing like it had a mind of its own. It made it more difficult, but he worked through it. The whole process had just taken much, much longer.

But as the end product laid on the table before him, he allowed himself a smile.

It was his masterpiece. Subject 45 had been his greatest accomplishment. But that had been made from a mistake, something he had not foreseen and tried to create.

This was his best work.

It had the main form of a boy, thin and wiry like the animals he was molded after. It had muscles, but they were in different areas then a bodybuilders. It was like a runner or swimmer. Muscles built for endurance, not strength. Its legs were its best advantage.

White gray hair was the main feature on its face. It did not have the look of an albino, especially with its eyes, so its hair was particularly noticeable. But this was a creature for stealth, not blending in with the crowd. It would be fine.

It had a muzzle, if a rather small one. Its lower half of its face jutted out, just a tiny bit. Its forehead was almost completely covered in white fur, the pattern coming together to a point just above its nose. The fur spread down to cover part of its cheeks, but only touching the tip of its nose. It would never pass as human.

Markus was okay with that.

Its eyes were rather hard to miss. They were the largest part of the Osprey DNA he had slipped in. They were the amber brown of juveniles, but he knew that over time they would turn a piercing yellow. They were slanted, the part closest to the nose curved down in the way of birds. It produced a rather intimidating look.

The fur had all but disappeared by the bottom of its nose, but there was down in its hair. The down of birds, the tiny fluffy feathers that they could puff out when they got cold. It was a rather unique figure, and coupled nicely with its habit of poofing its hair out when cold.

There was a problem with its mouth. Most of the Snow Leopard DNA he hadn't thought of to put anywhere else had been poured into its mouth.

Fangs much too large to pass as medically sharpened actually stuck out of its mouth, the tips of pure white coming out over its bottom lip. It was eerily similar to a Disney's vampire. Markus had taken to, in his spare time, (which was almost none) to design a sort of muzzle. For every other tooth in its mouth was sharpened to a tee and in the perfect position for ripping throats out of downed animals. And combined with the Arctic Wolf DNA that had already been there?

It was enough to make him shudder.

Its ears could move independently, but had shifted up on his head. They weren't on the top, like with most leopards, but somewhere in between. They were almost completely hidden by its hair, but the barest tips of their pointed lengths peeked out, often twitching this way or that to catch the best sound. But the halfway up and halfway down position lowered its hearing ability, even so to the point it was only slightly better than the average humans. That was very disappointing. And combined with the fact that since the ears had more bones to move, which made the ears a large and vital weak point? Very frustrating.

Its neck had actually grown another bone inside of it, and could rotate almost all of the way around, almost 170 degrees. But the back of its neck was extremely vulnerable, where the new bone connected weakly with the spine. It was the weakness that Markus used to control the subject. A simple strike to the neck and it would fall like a sack of potatoes.

The bulk of the wolf DNA had been shifted to the one place where it couldn't physically harm itself; the vocal chords. Combined with the fact they had had years to settle within its body, it was almost scary with how many sounds it could make. So this, along with the regular human vocal chords, Markus had figured it could talk normally or howling like cliche werewolves.

It had, through much figurative coaxing of its DNA, actually grown a tail. It was completely covered in the same color as his hair, the gray-white, fur, but it had the thick fluffiness of the Arctic Wolf. It would never be able to sit for long, as it grew right out of the base of its spine. The extra vertebrae growing had actually made something a bit strange; the ability of a prehensile tail. Because Markus had given it almost three times the normal amount of milk during the whole process, the bones had been strengthened so much they were able to support its weight for short periods of time. But the strain of its spine keeping its weight would slowly break down the bones until the tail was simply a dead mass of skin and muscles. So that skill was used with the absolute barest minimum. Its tail was also a very weak point for any enemies grabbing it or even jerking it too far to one side and messing everything up.

Claws were a must for any predator. But Markus had toyed with the idea of using the last remnants of the Arctic Wolf DNA or Snow Leopard DNA. Eventually, he shoved in a large portion of leopard and prayed. He couldn't control everything, but he could pick what parts to go where.

Thankfully, it had turned out at least okay. The claws were rather short, not lengthened much from the wolf claws it had had before. But small amounts of fur had grown over the tips, not completely covering it but well hiding their existence but letting the claws be able to slide partially back into its skin. Small pads had also appeared on its fingers and palms, same with its toes and foot soles. They had helped significantly for quick stops and gripping slippery surfaces. All in all, it was a positive outcome.

There was little else, other than a thick line of fur down its spine, arms, and legs and a rough tongue. But Markus would gladly throw anyway any of those things to keep what else he had gotten with this gamble.

Instincts.

For some reason, its forehead had been almost completely stripped of humanity. And this also included a small portion of its brain.

Namely, the part of the brain of planning and personality.

This impacted it in very strange ways. Before this, it had been almost empty, seemingly not caring.

Now, survival was its first priority. It had seen that when it obeyed it was treated better, and if it did something wrong it was hurt. It had practically turned into a soldier.

It had also become more animalistic, but not in an obvious way. In any situation, it would do its own thing, seemingly oblivious.

But with another animal in the room, or a human it believed was below it, it would snap to attention, its tail stilling and ears focusing. It would almost stalk whatever it was, until in the perfect moment it would strike, pinning it to the floor.

It had killed an elk before Markus had realized that putting it in a room with another animal was probably a bad idea.

He would have to experiment with other hybrids, but the thought of killing another Injector's subject brought bile to the back of his throat.

He walked closer to his subject, wielding a thin scalpel. Its spine had shifted, growing crooked from a wolfman yanking on its tail.

The metal gleamed reflected in Subject's 47 eyes as it watched him, struggling only minutely. Fire burned in its green depths, but it did not even remotely make an effort.

Survival, after all.

Markus stopped at the edge of the metal table, carefully eyeing the thick leather straps holding down all of the subject's limbs. Its tail was free, because it had to be pulled back into place. He raised the scalpel, scratchy a thin line down its back. The marking line of its spine jerked out at the bottom, which was what he had to correct.

Pausing for only a second, he ripped open the back of Subject's body.

* * *

 **Ah, the only thing I have not figured out how to avoid; the much-beloved Infodump! The chapter simply there to bore readers with endless description but so many newbie write (ie ME) have to do to get their story across! If anyone has any ideas on how to fix this, please tell me!**

 **But I want to make a point. I love the idea of Maximum Ride and experimenting with DNA, but I hate how the characters are. I mean, get a bloody** _ **TWO PERCENT**_ **of bird, and grow wings? Seriously?**

 **And that's not even the worst! No, it's how perfectly they are able to pass as human. Oh, hmm, I have wings! Oh gosh, how am I gunna be human? Neva mind, because wings was the** _ **only bloody thing**_ **I got!**

 **In my story, Harry will have to struggle both to learn English, because while he was taught by Markus, it was for a younger age because Markus had expected to keep him his whole life. Harry will also NOT be able to pass as human! White hair, fur over his face, yellow eyes, a frinkin' tail, fangs poking out of his mouth; this will not be the kind of story where Harry can tuck his tail under his robes and be perfectly fine. I mean, with a tail you can't even sit! The tail grows out of the rump, not the back!**

 **Sorry, my ranting is over. Enjoy, read and review!**

 **Frost OUT!**


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